


The One Where Archie Got High

by southsidewrites



Series: The Southside Serpents as F.R.I.E.N.D.S. [7]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie's Sister Reader, Cute, Domestic Serpents, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends AU, Friendship, Funny, Gen, Humor, One Shot, Reader-Insert, Secret Relationship, Thanksgiving, a little bit of a crack fic, future serpents, more about friendships than relationships, serpent friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 17:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: In which…-Betty makes a beef truffle-Toni has an inexplicable crush on Fred Andrews-Fangs really wants to celebrate with hot girls-Jughead just wants to eat-Sweet Pea and Archie’s sister are living together-Archie’s had three wives-and Fred and Mary regret ever coming to visitBased on episode 6x09 of Friends: The One Where Ross Got High; A Thanksgiving One-Shot in The Southside Serpents as F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Anthology





	The One Where Archie Got High

**Author's Note:**

> In the tradition of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., I just had to write a Thanksgiving special. Thanks for checking it out, and enjoy!

 

All you could do was smile as you stirred mashed potatoes and chatted with your dad on speakerphone.  Your tiny apartment, which was still a major upgrade from the trailer, was warm and cozy, and the smell of the rolls baking in the oven filled the room.  

Ever since you’d graduated college and moved to New York, you’d started celebrating Thanksgiving with the Serpents, and every Thanksgiving you’d celebrated with the Serpents had been full of surprises.  This year was going to be different, though.  This year, you and Sweet Pea had a real apartment, and things _had_ to go well.

Your dad’s words snapped you out of your dreamy reverie. “Wait, what?”

 _“I asked what time we should come over,”_ Fred repeated. _“What time should we be there before dinner?”_

The words, despite being in English, were completely unintelligible. “What are you talking about?”

 _“Your brother invited your mother and me to dinner,”_ he said. _“And while I was perfectly content to stay up here in Riverdale, your mom insisted that we should come down and see you kids.  She even came to stay with me for a night so we could drive down together.”_

You had to bite your lip to hold back a groan.  Sure, there’d be more than enough food for them, but that wasn’t the issue. “Okay, um, I guess, well, I was planning to serve dinner at four, so any time after three?”

_“Works for us.  I’ll see you, then, sweetheart.”_

“See you then, Dad.” You clicked off the phone with a sigh and set down the bowl of mashed potatoes.  Behind you, you heard the front door open.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, Pea.” You shot him a wide grin, praying that he didn’t see right through it. “So, interesting news—guess who’s coming to Thanksgiving dinner tonight?”

“Who?” he asked, tossing his coat on the couch and walking into the kitchen to pull you into a hug.

You took a deep breath, taking in his comforting scent before answering. “My parents.”

“Oh!  Okay, cool.  They haven’t seen you in ages, right?”

“Yeah.” You pulled away from him and started readjusting the already perfect centerpiece on the table. “And—um—if you could—maybe not mention that we live together, that would be awesome.”

He gently pulled your hand away from the centerpiece and made you look at him. “What are you talking about, babe?  Why can’t I tell them that we live together?”

“Ummm…” You paused, wishing you could crawl under the table and disappear. “Because they don’t know we’re dating!  Do you think we should eat in the kitchen or the dining room?”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” he said, his voice firm. “Why don’t they know we’re dating?  It’s been literal years, babe.”

“This is true.”

He held your gaze, unsatisfied with your answer.

“So, dinner in the kitchen around four!  I’ll see you then, babe.” You stood up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek and then turned on your heel to return to cooking.  Before you could get far, though, his strong arms were around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Why haven’t you told him?” he asked again, holding you tightly to prevent another escape attempt.

His brown eyes seemed to be burning a hole through you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lie. “Sweet Pea, they don’t like you.”

“What?  Why not?”

“I don’t know, Pea.”  You had managed to wriggle out of his grasp and return to bustling around the kitchen putting final touches on dinner. “Maybe it’s because you were kind of edgy as a kid, or because you’re so sarcastic, or like, because of your crude sense of humor, or that you always leave wet towels on the floor.”

“Are these reasons why _they_ don’t like me, or why _you_ don’t like me?”

You turned to face him, exhaling softly. “Babe, I know I should have told them sooner.  I’m sorry.”

“You know, it’ll be okay.” He nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully and running his hand through his hair. “It’ll be fine.  When they come over, I’ll be insanely charming—I’ll make them fall in love with me, and _then_ , we’ll tell them.”

You shook your head skeptically. “Do you really think that’ll work?”

“Hey, I can be pretty charming, babe.” He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I won _you_ over, didn’t I?”

Laughing, you pulled him into a hug. “Pea, getting my parents buzzed and taking them for a midnight bike ride to make out by the river isn’t going to work.”

* * *

 

Sweet Pea threw open the door to see Fangs, Jughead, and Archie playing Xbox.  Archie had been a new, surprisingly welcome, addition to their friend group.  It had started in college when he went to the same school as Jughead, Sweet Pea, and Fangs.  It turned out the guy wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t surrounded by the crazy that was Riverdale.  Then, Sweet Pea started dating his sister when she came to visit him over Spring Break, and he had no choice but to be nice to the guy.

Sweet Pea went to stand next to the TV, trying to get his friends’ attention.

“Andrews, do your parents like me?” he demanded.

“Mhm, sure,” Archie replied, not tearing his eyes away from the screen.

“Well, your sister told me that they didn’t like me.”

“Oh yeah, no, they don’t,” he answered, swearing when his player got shot in-game.

Sweet Pea was struggling to keep his temper in check as his hand clenched into fists. “Do you know _why?”_

“I dunno, maybe it’s because you’re so sarcastic, or—”

“If you don’t know, don’t try to answer, Andrews!” he snapped.

Jughead rolled his eyes, doing his best not to look at the big, lurking distraction standing by the TV, and Archie returned his gaze to the screen where he had just been overridden with a horde of zombies.

“Great,” Sweet Pea fumed. “Another fucking reason to hate Thanksgiving.  Fucking dumb holiday with nothing to give thanks for.”

“Maybe I could give thanks for you shutting up?” Fangs offered.

“Maybe _I_ could give thanks by slamming your face into the TV screen.”

“No need for that, man—”

The door to the apartment opened, and all three men simultaneously dropped their controllers when they say who had just walked in.  It was Josie McCoy—the up and coming singer who by some miracle ended up living in Fangs’ spare bedroom.

Seeing his friends enraptured expressions, Sweet Pea just shook his head.  Giving Josie a nod as he left, he stormed out the door to return to his own apartment.

“Hey, guys!” Josie said, sitting on the couch with a bright smile.

“Hey Josie,” Archie answered, running his hand through his unruly hair in an attempt to flatten it and putting on his most charming smile.

“Are you guys planning on going to Sweet Pea’s for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Fangs answered, nearly stumbling over his words. “Why?  What’s up?”

“Well, some of my other musician friends and I are thinking of doing Thanksgiving here.” She shrugged, her curly hair bouncing. “I thought you guys might like to come.”

Jughead perked up, almost ready to jump out of his chair. “For real?”

“Well yeah, but you guys should probably go the Sweet Pea’s, though,” she said, her smile dropping. “None of us actually know how to cook, so I have a feeling we’ll probably just end up drinking all day.”

“Ye—yes—we go to yours!” Fangs replied.

Archie managed to spit out a stammered reply. “Yeah, see, we—we—we have to stop at my sister’s across the hall because it’s my sister and all, but—uh—” He gulped hard. “Y’know, growing up with a sister was really good for me and all—taught me how to be super respectful towards woman and such.”

Josie nodded slowly, glancing between the men with a skeptical look. “Yeah, okay.”  On that absurdly weird note, she went into her room and closed the door.

Jughead smirked at his best friend—he was still a little red in the face and breathless. “How you got three women to marry you, I’ll never know.”

* * *

Betty and Toni walked into your apartment covered in a light dusting of snow.  Betty was carrying a large bag of groceries, and Toni was carrying a small papier-mâché turkey.  Of the two items, it was the groceries that had you most confused.

“What have you got there, Betty?” you asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.  Betty had many talents, but cooking wasn’t one of them.

“Dessert, remember?  I offered to make dessert for you tonight as a sort of thank-you for hosting every year.” Walking to the counter, she started unpacking the ingredients.

“Oh yeah,” you drawled, remembering the conversation with a deep pang of regret.  The ingredients she was pulling out of the bag looked normal enough—sugar, milk, fruit, nothing too weird. “Whatcha making?”

“A traditional English truffle,” she replied, grinning proudly. “I found the recipe in one of your old cookbooks, and the picture looked really good.  It also said it was a great recipe for beginners.”

“Well that’s good,” Sweet Pea said with a smirk.

“Ha, ha,” Betty intoned, giving him a stern look. “Just you wait, Sweet Pea.  This will be the best dessert you’ve ever had.

“I’m sure.” He turned to look at you. “And babe, what are you making in case Betty’s dessert is a complete failure?”

You laughed, barely looking away from the vegetables you were chopping. “Nothing.  I have way too much going on between feeding everyone and my idiot brother deciding to invite my parents.”

“Wait?” Betty asked, looking up with a start.  She had started pulling out pans and putting ingredients in them, but this made her jerk to a halt, a stricken look on her face. “You’re not making anything else?”

“No, girl, I trust you.”

“So, just to clarify, if I completely mess this up, there’s nothing else for dessert?”

“You’re not going to mess it up, Betts.”

Nodding slowly, she looked at Sweet Pea. “Sweet Pea, should we be worried about her?”

“What do you mean?”

“She truly seems to believe I won’t mess up this dessert.”

“I’m chalking it up to temporary insanity induced by her parents coming.  Fred and Mary Andrews in the same room seem to have that effect on people.”

“Ha, ha.” You rolled your eyes. “That is so not true.”

“Do you remember Archie’s first wedding?” Sweet Pea countered. “That was a hot mess.”

You sighed. “That was a hot mess for a lot of reasons, my parents being the least of them.”

As if on cue, your brother, Fangs, and Jughead burst into the apartment, nearly vibrating with excitement.

 “Oh, wow, the food smells great,” Fangs said, eyeing up the piles of food building on the counter.

“And the place looks so nice,” Jughead added, gesturing at the centerpiece.

“Yeah, it does,” Archie agreed.  “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” you replied warily, not trusting the crazy look in Archie’s eyes.

“Well, this has been great,” Fangs said, putting on his most charming smile.

Archie nodded eagerly. “See you later, everyone!” 

In unison, they all made a sharp turn, heading for the door.

You darted around them and blocked the door. “Where do you three stooges think you’re going?”

“Oh—um—it’s Fangs’ roommate, you see.  She’s having a little Thanksgiving thing, and we thought it might be nice to join her for a bit,” Archie said, whipping out his well-practiced puppy-dog eyes.

You weren’t buying it.  You had spent your whole life resisting his charms, and you weren’t about to break now. “No way, Arch.  We’re talking Josie McCoy, the absurdly attractive singer, right?”

“One may describe her as conventionally attractive, yes.”

“And who else is going to be there?”

“Some of her friends.”

“Her hot musician friends?”

He sighed sharply. “Yes, all right?  All of her hot musician friends are going to be there, and they’re going to be drinking, and dancing, and we just—we really want to go, okay?”

Sweet Pea snorted with amusement, watching avidly as you stared down the much-taller men with the ferocity of an incredibly angry chihuahua.

“No, not okay,” you snapped. “It was your dumb ass that invited Mom and Dad without my permission, and you’re going to stay here and eat with us.”  You looked between the three of them, daring them to argue. “Any problems with that?”

They gulped and shook their heads, the fear evident in their wide eyes.

“Good.”  There was a knock on the door behind you, and you groaned loudly. “And now Mom and Dad are here, and dinner’s not ready.  Thanks, Archie.”

“Anytime, sis,” he replied with a grin.

You shooed them away and turned to open the door. “Mom!  Dad!  So good to see you both.  Come on in.”

Fred greeted you with a warm hug, the soft flannel material of his shirt smelling so familiar it actually made you miss home a bit.  “Hey, kiddo, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Dad.” 

Next, you hugged your mom.  Although you had lived with your dad for so much longer than her, you had always been close.  While you’d loved growing up with your dad and Archie, sometimes you just had to talk to someone else who recognized exactly how batshit crazy Riverdale was.

“Honey, it’s so good to see you.  Thanks so much for having us.”

“Of course, Mom.  It’s so good to have you.”

As soon as you and Archie had greeted your parents, Sweet Pea was at the ready, smiling almost painfully brightly.  He had dressed up for the occasion, exchanging all the ripped denim and leather he usually wore for a pair of clean, dark jeans and a deep blue sweater. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, it’s so good to see you.  Can I take your coats?”

Fred gave him a skeptical look, shrugging off his snowy coat and handing it to the younger man. His voice fell flat. “Sweet Pea, great to see you.”

Sweet Pea rolled with the punch, turning his attention to your mom. “And Mrs. Andrews, you look lovely tonight.”

Her poker face was a little better than Fred’s, but the disdain was clear. “Thank you, Sweet Pea.”

* * *

Almost as soon as everyone sat down for dinner, Toni snuck away from the table to chat with Betty. “Hey, Betts, I have something I need to tell you,” she whispered eagerly. “It’s absolutely weird, though, so hear me out.”

“What’s that?” Betty asked, her gaze fixed on the raspberries she was carefully layering into the dish.

“I had a dream about Mr. Andrews last night.”

Betty froze, setting down the raspberries to turn and look at her friend. “You _what?”_

“I had a dream about Mr. Andrews—you know, Mr. Andrews, the insanely hot owner/operator of Andrews construction.”

“Yes, I’m aware of who he is, Toni.  The man was my next-door neighbor growing up.  What do you mean by you had a dream about him?”

“Shh!” Ton gestured wildly, looking behind her to make sure no one could hear them. “But yeah, I had a dream about him.  It was super weird—we were back in Riverdale, and it was prom.  Of course, I was wearing a gorgeous floor-length red dress.   But then, disaster struck, and the school started on fire.  Out of nowhere, there he was!  He was one of the firefighters, and he super-heroically pulled me from the flames.” She paused, sighing dreamily. “It’s like, he used to just be Fred Andrews, the friendly Riverdale dad-next-door, but now he’s Fred Andrews, brave, courageous, dream hunk.”

Betty’s face was completely blank. “Does Cheryl know you have dreams like this?”

Toni laughed, waving her off. “Cheryl gets it.  I love her to death, and I would never cheat on her.  Therefore, I can safely fantasize about men I’ll never have.”

Slowly, Betty began to nod, her face not registering an ounce of understanding. “Yeah, well, personally, to me, he’s always going to be Fred Andrews, my best friend’s dad who’s known me since I was in diapers.”

“Betty, Betty, Betty, you’ve got to think bigger than that.”

* * *

Having somehow survived dinner, you knew the only way to make sure the night didn’t end in disaster was to keep the drinks flowing and do your best to cover for Sweet Pea every time he made some new, uniquely stupid comment.  Mercifully, Toni and Jughead had taken over distracting your mom while you focused on your dad.

“Hey, Dad, remember how Sweet Pea went to college with Archie?  How they both majored in business?”

“I’m aware,” he replied, taking a long sip of beer.

“Yeah,” Sweet Pea agreed with an energetic nod. “Archie and I were in the same Calculus class our first semester—I don’t know how I would have made it through that class without him.  He’s a really great guy, you know.  Especially after all that horrible shit in high school, sleeping with a teacher, you getting shot, juvie, it’s a wonder he’s so normal.” 

Even you couldn’t save him from that.  If saying something dumb was putting your foot in your mouth, Sweet Pea has just crammed both legs down there.

Fred just stared, shaking his head and finishing off his beer.

* * *

As Betty fiddled with her mostly-complete truffle, Fangs and Archie hovered around her like two horny vultures.

“Toni, you’re killing us here,” Fangs pleaded. “Will you just serve the damn thing already?  Josie and her hot, drunk friends are waiting.”

She rolled her eyes and turned the large glass serving bowl to face them. “It’s just about done—doesn’t it look great?”

“Yeah, sure, Betts,” Archie replied. “But what is it?”

“It’s a truffle,” she sighed exasperatedly. “It’s a traditional dessert with lots of layers.”

“What are the layers?” Fangs asked, peering at the bowl with a confused expression.

“First there’s a layer of ladyfingers.  Then, there’s a layer of jam.  Then, custard, which I made from scratch.  Then, there’s raspberries, more ladyfingers, beef sautéed with peas and onions, a bit more custard, bananas, and some whipped cream on top!”

Fangs and Archie both stared at her like she had just transformed into a giant lizard person before their eyes.  Neither of them _wanted_ to speak up, but they both knew that somebody _had_ to.

“Betty,” Archie started, trying not to sound too accusatory. “What was the one right before the bananas?”

“You mean the beef?  I did think that was kind of weird, but I also know I’m not a good cook.  I figured it was best to just stick to the recipe and not try to improve it and end up making it a million times worse.” Shrugging, she looked at Fangs. “Oh, by the way, do you have some rum at your place?  I need a bit for the last bit of the recipe.”

“Sure!” He forced a painful smile. “Go for it!”

“Awesome.” She grinned. “And while I’m gone, you guys should give it a try and tell me how it is.”

“Great!” Archie replied, nodding aggressively.

Betty took off, and as soon as the door shut behind her, Fangs turned to face Archie.

“Beef in a dessert?” he exclaimed. “No way, man.”

Archie grabbed the cookbook Betty had been using, flipping through the pages to look for the recipe.  His face wrinkled when he felt how sticky the pages were. “What the heck?  These pages are nasty.” He kept flipping, and then his eyes widened. “Oh my God, the pages are stuck together!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she made half an English truffle, and half a…” He flipped the page, his eyes widening. “Half a Shepard Pie!”

“Oh man,” Fangs whined. “Now, she’s going to have to start all over.  We’re never going to get to dance with hot girls.”

“No, no, no,” Archie argued, setting the book down. “We’re not going to tell her.”

“What are you talking about?  We _have_ to tell her.”

“No, we don’t.”

“So, what do you propose we do, Andrews?  Just let her serve the horrible beef-custard thing?”

“Exactly.” He nodded vigorously. “It may suck now, but years from now, it’ll just be another funny Thanksgiving story.”

“Oh yeah,” Fangs snorted. “Because vomit stories are always hilarious.  ‘Cause that’s what’s going to happen when people eat that monstrosity, you know—they’re going to vomit.”

Archie shook his head. “C’mon, man, we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do to get to that party across the hall.  Josie and all her hot, single friends are waiting!”

Fangs’ lips curved downward with pity. “It’s been a while since you’ve dated, Arch, hasn’t it?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying, man, you seem pretty desperate to get with a hot girl tonight.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who—"

He was cut off by Betty’s return.

“Fangs, any particular non-creepy reason your apartment is like a thousand degrees?”

“Did it by any chance make you want to walk around in your underwear?”

“Um, absolutely not.”

“Damn, still not hot enough!” Shaking his head, he darted out the door and across the hall.

Betty stood there, rum in hand. “Yup, knew it was something creepy.” She looked up at Archie, hoping for some sort of explanation.  Instead, he turned abruptly to sit with his family without a word.

* * *

Now that your mom was back, you had to work double-duty to make sure Sweet Pea didn’t say something stupid.  Having long run out of worthwhile things to say, though, you had resorted to Sweet Pea’s method of excessive complementing. “Mom, Sweet Pea was just telling me how beautiful your sweater is.”

Mary smiled, smoothing out the sweater with an almost-genuine smile. “Oh, well thank you, Sweet Pea.  It’s new.”

“Well, Mrs. Andrews, it is very beautiful.  That green looks great on you, and the fit is so tight, and—” He jerked to a stop, hearing the words the second they came out of his mouth and freezing, a horrified look on his face.  Had it not been freezing outside, you were very confident that Sweet Pea would have taken his chances jumping off the fire escape.  

Archie looked shocked at first, but then he saw everyone else’s faces, and he had to do everything he could not to burst out in laughter.  Seeing how much fun he was having with your misery, you stomped on his foot underneath the coffee table.  He groaned, grabbing at his foot and shooting you dagger-eyes.

Meanwhile, Sweet Pea was a stuttering mess as he tried to salvage the situation. “I meant—I don’t mean tight—I mean, it’s not too tight, not that I was looking at your—” With a heavy sigh, he gave up, dropping his head into his hands.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” Fred asked, his tone biting.

Mary shook her head and then leaned in closer to her ex-husband.  Her whisper came out loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I think he’s stoned again.”

“What?” Sweet Pea asked, jerking upright so fast his head almost slammed into yours.

Your jaw dropped, and your voice came out slowly. “What the hell are you talking about, Mom?”

Archie’s jaw had dropped in an expression that made the two of you look like twins.  Then, he sprang into action. “Sweet Pea, a moment, please.” He shot off the couch, grabbing Sweet Pea’s arm and dragging him into the bedroom.  Once the door was shut behind him, leaving the rest of you sitting in dumbfounded silence, he turned to look at his grumpy friend.

Archie paced around the room, fiddling with the sleeves of his button-down and fixing his hair. “So, um, I think I may know, or may have a better idea, at least, about why my parents don’t like you.”

“And why’s that, Andrews?” Sweet Pea asked, drawing himself up to his full height and clenching his hands into fists.

“Okay, relax man!” Archie took a big step back away from the angry giant staring down at him. “Remember sophomore spring break?  That year we were all too broke to go anywhere, and we all stayed in New York?”

“Yeah, I remember.  That was when your parents first brought your sister to visit you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you and her fell madly in love despite having literally nothing in common and no interest in each other during the previous five years of knowing each other.”

“Get to the point, Andrews!”

“Well, when my parents first stopped by my room to pick me up for dinner, I didn’t exactly know when they’d be coming.  Assuming they wouldn’t be in until the next morning, I kind of smoked a massive bowl.”

“Okay, _and?_   There’s literally nothing novel about you smoking pot in college, Archie.”

“Yeah, _you_ knew that, but my parents didn’t.  There was no way they were going to be okay with it, so I kind of panicked and lied to them.”

“What did you tell them?”

Archie shrunk back further into the corner, recognizing that if Sweet Pea wanted to, he could snap him in half without breaking a sweat. “I may or may not have told them that you had been the one smoking and that when they showed up, you climbed out the fire escape.”

“ _What?_ Why the hell would you do that?”

“I don’t know, man!” He scrambled around his taller friend to escape the confines of the corner. “Yours was the first name that came into my head, and to be fair, you were the one who gave me the stuff, and I didn’t think it would matter.”

Sweet Pea tossed his hands in the air, pacing around the small bedroom. “How could that not matter?”

“In my defense, I had no idea we’d still be friends after college, much less that you’d be moving in with my sister.”

“Seriously, dude?” Sweet Pea turned to look at him, a hurt look on his face. “You didn’t think we’d still be friends after college?”

“No, man, not like that,” Archie said hurriedly, “I just—look, I was high a _lot_ back then”

* * *

“What the hell is going on in here?” you snapped, yanking the bedroom door shut behind you. “Mom and Dad are going nuts, and both of you assholes have some explaining to do.”

Sweet Pea took a big step back, holding his hands in front of him like you might pounce—he had right to be concerned. “Babe, this is absolutely _not_ my fault.”

You rolled your eyes and rounded on your brother. “Archie?  What do you have to say for yourself?”

His voice came out in a rush. “Mom and Dad caught me smoking pot in college, and I kind of blamed it on Sweet Pea.”

_“Kind of?”_

Your voice had raised to a troublingly high pitch, and he took a big step back.  While he knew Sweet Pea had the ability to snap him in half, he didn’t think he ever would.  You, on the other hand, were apt to snap at any moment. “Okay, I totally blamed it on Sweet Pea.”

“You do realize this is why they hate me, right?” Sweet Pea fumed. “Why your sister has held off on telling them we’re even together?”

“I know, I know!”

“You need to tell them, Arch.” Your voice had dropped back down to a deathly low volume. “Now.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell them it wasn’t Sweet Pea.” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “So, who do I tell them it was instead?”

“Maybe yourself?” You snapped, jumping toward him fists first and finding yourself caught in your boyfriend’s arms. “It’s been years, Archie.  It’s not a big deal—it’s not like you still do it or anything, right?”  There was a pause, and Archie just stared at you.  You surged forward again, but Sweet Pea’s grip on you wasn’t budging. “ _Right?”_

“Yes, yes, right!  Fine, I’ll tell them.” 

* * *

“C’mon, Betty, will you hurry up?” Fangs whined. “Did you not hear me before when I mentioned that all Josie’s friends are all really hot?  And that they’re going to be drinking a lot?”

“No, I did,” she replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “But please, tell me again because it was so romantic.”

“Well, you’re mixing so slow.  Can’t you do that any faster?”

“Fangs, relax!” she snapped. “I just don’t want to make any mistakes, okay?  This is the only dessert we’re having tonight, and if I screw it up, this will forever be the Thanksgiving that Betty screwed up by making a crappy trifle!”

Fangs gave her a sympathetic look, recognizing that this was not the time or place to correct her on the pronunciation of ‘truffle.’

“So,” she went on, “why don’t you just let me worry about making the trifle, and you just worry about eating it, okay?”

“Don’t you worry, Betty Cooper.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll definitely worry about eating it.”

* * *

“Archie, I swear to god, if you don’t tell them, I will,” you whisper-shouted, doing your best to keep your voice under control.  Now that Sweet Pea wasn’t there to hold you off your brother, you didn’t trust yourself not to attempt to kill him.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll tell them.” Taking a deep breath, Archie started walking across the living room and toward the coach where your parents were sitting.  Before he got to them, though, Fangs nearly tackled him back into the bedroom.

“What the hell, man?” Archie demanded, grabbing the dresser to steady himself. “I was kind of in the middle of something, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, later,” Fangs brushed him off. “This is way more important.  We need to tell Betty about her hellish beef truffle.”

“What?” Archie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What is with everybody today?  It’s Thanksgiving, not fricking ‘Truth Day!’”

“Look, man,” Fangs said softly. “When everyone eats that horrible banana-meat thing, they’re all going to make fun of her.  You don’t want that, do you?”

Archie sighed hard.  What he wanted at that moment was to return to his sophomore year of college when he could happily smoke a bowl without having to worry about being pummeled by his sister or her skyscraper of a boyfriend.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option 

“Okay, fine,” Archie agreed. “We just need to get everyone to act like they like it.  That way, no one makes fun of her, and we still get to go party with the hot singers.”

“Good call.  You distract her, and I’ll talk to everybody.”

“Why do I have to distract her?”

“I dunno, maybe because you’re the one who was her childhood best friend!”

“Fine,” he groaned.  They walked out of the bedroom together, and Archie walked into the kitchen where Betty was still working on the truffle. “Hey, Betts, can we talk?”

“Okay…” She set down the mixing spoon and followed him out into the hallway.  Once the door was shut behind them, she crossed her arms. “What’s up, Archie?”

“Uhhh…” He looked around, hoping the bland hallway wallpaper would spark a distraction-worthy topic of conversation.  It didn’t. “So, um, Thanksgiving.  Guess the holiday season is really here now, isn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah.” She glanced back at the door, clearly wondering when it would be acceptable to make a run from the conversation.

“And, um, you look nice today.”

“Oh no, Arch, please don’t do this.” Her voice softened, and she took a step towards him, taking his hand in hers.

“Do what?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion.

“I just—” She sighed. “We really shouldn’t be each other’s rebound, you know?”

Now he was good and thoroughly confused. “ _What?”_

She shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. “I just had a feeling this might happen today, Arch.  I know the holidays can be rough, especially after a nasty breakup like you and Ronnie just had, but you and I would be a mistake.  You’re clearly still not over her, and I really want to see where this thing with me and Jughead goes.”

“Betty, that’s not at all what I meant.  I—”

The door opened behind them, and Fangs was standing there with a dopey grin. “Oh, there you guys are.  Betty, everyone’s wondering if dessert is ready.”

“Really?” she asked, completely forgetting about the conversation they’d just been having.

“Really truly.”

“Awesome!”  She gave Archie a last, pitying look, and then walked back into the apartment. 

Once everyone was back inside, you ushered them to the table as Betty started handing out little plates full of truffle.  All it took was one look to see that Fangs’ warning had been right—the dessert was a horrifying-looking mix of sugar, fruit, beef, and veggies, and the smell was downright nauseating.

“Betts, this looks great,” you said, feigning excitement.

“Well good, because I want you to have the first taste.”

Your heart dropped, and you tried not to let it show in your tone. “Really?”

“Absolutely!” She sat down across the table from you, her bright smile so sweet it made your chest hurt.

Cautiously, you scooped up a bite of dessert, carefully avoiding everything but the whipped cream and custard.

“Oh, oh, wait!” Betty exclaimed. “You just got whipped cream there—don’t you want to get all the layers?”

“Oh, of course, silly me.”

Next to you, Sweet Pea was trying so hard not to laugh that he looked like he might explode.  Fangs and Jughead had it a bit easier—they were behind Betty, so they could laugh more openly. 

Taking a steadying breath, you scooped up a bigger spoonful—one that included both meat and what appeared to be diced onions.  It took all the strength you had to put it in your mouth.  As soon as the concoction hit your tongue, you could feel your body trying to reject it.  You swallowed hard, trying not to gag and hoping you weren’t making too obvious of a face.

“How is it, babe?” Sweet Pea asked, red in the face from trying to keep it together.

“Amazing,” you gasped. “And I think it would go great with wine!” Flying up from the table, you uncorked a new bottle and had to restrain yourself from dumping it straight in your mouth.

In the meantime, everyone else had started eating, and every one of them was making absolutely fake noises of enjoyment.

“Wow, Betty,” Sweet Pea said, his voice strained as he grabbed his plate and took off toward the balcony door. “This is so good that I think I’m going to go enjoy it on the balcony!”

“Mhm,” Mary agreed. “This is so good that I think I need to call my friend Laura and tell her how good it is—from the phone in the bedroom, of course.”

“I’ll help you dial,” Fred offered hurriedly, taking off after her.

“Wait, the phone’s tricky in there, and you’re old!” Archie called. “Let me help you!”

“And mine’s so good that I think I need to go to the bathroom and watch myself eat it in the mirror,” Toni added, coughing her way through a gag.

The table now nearly empty, Betty looked around with wide eyes. “What—what was all that about?” She asked, looking between Jughead Fangs, who were the last ones standing. “Is it—does it not taste good?  Let me try it.”

Betty reached for Fangs’ plate, but Fangs sprang into action, ripping it from her grip and scarfing the truffle down at a lightning pace.  He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he did his best to keep it down. “Wow, Betty, so, _so_ , good.  Maybe Sweet Pea has some left.”

Rolling her eyes, she walked out onto the balcony.

“Oh my god, it tastes like feet,” Fangs gasped, grabbing a nearby beer and chugging it.

“Really?” Jughead asked, stopping with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I kind of like it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.  What’s not to like?  Custard?  Good.  Jam?  Good.  Beef?  _Great_.” Jughead took another bite, chewing happily.

Sweet Pea and Betty reemerged from the balcony, Sweet Pea’s plate nowhere to be seen.

“So, you’re seriously telling me a bird just grabbed it, tried to fly away with it, and then just dropped it onto the street?” Betty gave him a skeptical look.

“That is indeed what I’m telling you, Cooper,” Sweet Pea answered. “You know how those New York pigeons can be—downright savage.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Sweet Pea must have seen you rolling your eyes at his story because he shot you a wink before continuing. “If it’s any consolation, though, the pigeon did really seem to like it.”

Out of nowhere, Toni came rushing out of the bedroom, grabbing Betty and pulling her off to the side so no one would hear them. “Betts, you’ll never believe this.”

“Believe what?” she asked, looking behind her to see if anyone was eating.

“Well, when I was in the bathroom just now, I was sitting on the floor, eating my truffle and all, and I started getting drowsy, and—”

“Get to the point, T.”

“I had another dream about Fred!”

“You had another dream?” She asked skeptically. “In the three minutes you were in the bathroom eating trifle?”

“Exactly!” Toni nodded vigorously. “C’mon, you’ve heard of a power nap.  Well, anyways, I had another dream about Fred.”

“Toni, do I want to hear this?”

“I’m not sure, but I need to tell someone, and you already know the backstory.” She launched into the story. “So, I dreamt that Fred and I were about to be married—him in his firefighter uniform in me in my now half-burnt prom dress.  Before we could, though, he had to rush out because there was another fire or something.  I didn’t believe him, though, so I followed him.  Turns out there _was_ a fire, and he saved some girl who was wearing the _exact_ same dress as me.” She paused, giving Betty an expectant look.

“Oh, wow…”

“Yeah, so the girl was wearing the same dress as me, and then, _then_ , shit gets crazy.  Before I know what’s happening, Fred’s making out with the new girl!”

“The horror!” Betty gasped insincerely. “He dream-cheated on you!”

“Well yeah, but then, the dream got even better.  Out of nowhere, Carried Fisher flew in on the wings of a massive eagle and kicked his ass for betraying me.  Then, I got on the eagle with her, and we flew into space, and she introduced me to Chewbacca, who, by the way, was totally hitting on me.  Then, I realized I never had a thing for Fred at all.”

“Oh, so you had a thing for Chewbacca.”

“No,” she laughed, waving her off. “I had a thing for Carrie Fisher.”

* * *

“Archie, no more distractions—it’s time,” you said firmly.

“Oh, you mean telling Mom and Dad?” he asked thoughtfully. “I was thinking about maybe writing a letter.”

You wanted to slap him, but you just clenched your fists instead.  It was time to go nuclear. “Alright, you know what?  That’s it.  You’ve had your chance.”

“Wha—what?  Wait!”

“Mom, Dad,” you called loudly, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “Archie smoked pot in college!”

“What?” they snapped in near-perfect unison.

“You are such a tattletale,” Archie whined.  His shoulders slumping, he turned to face your parents. “Mom, Dad, do you remember that time you walked in my room during Spring Break and smelled pot?”

“Yes,” Fred said, his voice low and threatening.

“Well, I told you it was Sweet Pea who was smoking, but it was really me.  I’m sorry.”

“It was you, Archie?” Mary asked, dropping her jaw in horror.

“And Dad,” you added, unable to stop now that you were on a roll, “you know that mailman you got fired for stealing your playboys?  Well, it wasn’t actually him—it was Archie!”

Archie’s jaw dropped, and he kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something but wasn’t capable of more than a mediocre impersonation of a Hungry, Hungry Hippo.  Then, he pressed his lips into a tight line and looked at you.  His grin made your heart drop.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t Hurricane Gloria that broke the porch swing—it was her and Reggie Mantle making out after Homecoming!”

Your parents’ gaze, as well as the gaze of all of your friends, had turned on you.

“Archie hasn’t had a full-time job in over a year!”

“She’s been living with Sweet Pea just as long!”

They turned back to you, and Archie grinned proudly, like he thought he had won.  You weren’t going down that easily, though.

“Archie married Veronica in Vegas!  And got divorced two days later!  For the _third_ time!”

There was a moment of silence as everyone just stared at Archie.  Then, Toni chimed in. “I’m in love with Carrie Fisher!”

Betty dropped the cookbook with a groan. “I wasn’t supposed to put beef in the trifle!”

“I want to goooooo!” Fangs whined, pounding his fists on the table.

“That’s enough!” Mary snapped.  She stood up from the couch, rubbing her temples. “That’s way too much to take in in thirty seconds.”  She turned on Fangs. “Fangs, if you want to leave, just leave.  Betty, you weren’t supposed to put beef in the trifle, which is pronounced truffle, and it did not taste good.  Toni, I’m pretty sure Carrie Fisher is dead.  And, honey, why you felt that you had to hide the fact that you were in an important relationship is beyond me.”

“And we kind of figured about the porch swing,” Fred added under his breath.

“But, Archie, Archibald Andrews,” Mary said, rounding in him. “Divorced?  Again?  First Cheryl, then Valerie, and now Veronica? You were lucky to have snagged any one of those women, and you’ve somehow managed to throw all three of them away?”

“I—uh—I—”

“In all fairness,” Toni pitched in. “Cheryl is a lesbian.”

Mary just shook her head.  Then, she finally turned to Sweet Pea, who had been sitting there in complete silence since the outbursts started. “And Sweet Pea, you’ve been Archie’s friend through all this, stuck by him through the drug problems, and now you’ve taken on our daughter, too.” She sighed, ignoring Archie’s protests. “Well, I don’t even know what to say other than you’re a wonderful human being, and good luck.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes widened, and he shot up from the couch. “Thank you!”

“No, thank you.” Fred got up and pulled Sweet Pea into a hug.  Then, he turned to look at you and Archie. “As for you two—I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two.”

Sweet Pea smiled broadly, placing a hand on Fred’s shoulder.  “Don’t you worry, Fred.  I’ll take care of them.”

* * *

“What a disaster of a night,” you groaned, flopping onto the couch and burying your face in the pillows.

“C’mon, babe, I think it was a pretty solid success,” Sweet Pea replied, sitting down next to you and brushing the hair off your face. “I mean, I won your parents over, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know if ‘won’ is the right word for how that went down.  I think we all lost in some way or another today.”

“Don’t worry about it, girl,” Toni called from the kitchen where she, Fangs, Betty, and Archie were cleaning up. “At least you didn’t go through a full-blown schoolgirl crush on Fred Andrews.”

“You mean my _dad_?” you asked, completely unsure what she was talking about.

“Point still stands.”

“I just can’t believe you all ate my terrible dessert just so I wouldn’t feel bad,” Betty said, picking up the mostly-full bowl and walking it toward the trash.

“Wait!” Jughead came rushing out of the bathroom. “Don’t throw that out!”

Betty gave him a skeptical look. “For real, Juggie?”

“For real,” he panted. “I’ll take it.”

Shaking her head, she pulled out plastic wrap to start covering it.

You laughed and snuggled into Sweet Pea’s side. “Maybe this wasn’t the absolute _worst_ Thanksgiving ever.”

“I know I liked it,” he said, burying his head in your neck.  His voice was too low for anyone else to hear.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it was the first one that I got to host with you.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “The first Thanksgiving we had as a couple living together.”

“I suppose that is kind of cool.”

“Kind of cool?” he scoffed. “It’s just about the best thing I can imagine.  I love you, babe.”

“I love you too, Sweet Pea.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself close to his large frame. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Oh no, you two,” Fangs drawled, climbing onto the couch. “No solo sappy moments in this friend group.”

“Yeah, no way,” Betty agreed, nearly climbing on top of you. “We do things as a group around here.”

Jughead laughed as he slipped into place on Sweet Pea’s lap. “Guys, there’s no way this couch holds all of us.”

“Wanna bet?” Toni asked, sliding into the last open spot on the back of the couch. “Seems to be doing just fine.”

“Wait, one more!” Archie shouted, diving onto the pile and situating himself between you and Fangs.

“Get off, you guys,” Sweet Pea laughed, trying unsuccessfully to squirm out from under his friends.

“Not a chance, skyscraper,” Fangs laughed, ruffling his perfectly-styled hair. “You may be all in love and domesticated and shit now, but you’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

He laughed harder, making the whole couch full of people shake. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out the rest of my Southside Serpents as F.R.I.E.N.D.S. series. Also check me out on tumblr @southsidewrites, and feel free to send in episode requests!


End file.
